


You Woke My Soul

by ExpectThePatronum



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bullying, M/M, Possessive Harry, Soulmates, overprotective Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 20:56:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18484204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExpectThePatronum/pseuds/ExpectThePatronum
Summary: Tom finally accepted Harry's offer of courtship months after discovering their Soulmate bond.





	You Woke My Soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pinkpallet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkpallet/gifts).



> I had planned to have this complete by the time of posting and was almost successful, but then my computer went and took a crap and I lost a billion files (including this one!) No need to worry, I have all my notes, but unfortunately the usual data recovery methods have not worked so it will take me a bit to re-write everything now that I'm back in school. Many apologies that it wasn't done on time!

“From the first moment that we touched, your arms felt like home.”

-John Mark Green

 

            If nothing else, Tom would be entertained by his Soulmate. That’s what he’d thought when he finally caved and accepted Harry Potter’s insistent, months-long attempts to begin their courtship after the bond brought them together. He hadn’t gone about it in a way Tom had expected, exactly, and maybe that was what finally wore him down. Or maybe it was that Harry refused to quit, no matter how harshly Tom rejected his requests, how scathingly he tore into Potter’s many flaws.

Perhaps Tom had something of a soft spot for the golden-hearted Slytherin, practically a Gryffindor with a mistaken uniform, who refused to balk in the face of Tom’s power and cruelty. Perhaps Tom liked the idea of having a Soulmate, someone designed by Mother Magic just for him, to fit perfectly. Perhaps he wanted this to work, somewhere deep in his forgotten heart, even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself. Maybe he wanted the love he’d always been denied, had always dismissed as useless, and this was his best chance at it.

Maybe it was none of those things, maybe it was just his curiosity once again getting the better of him. He’d agreed only after seeing Harry cast a Dark Spell, a curse still on the right side of legal, but Dark all the same. Curiosity, or a final confirmation that he would be safe to explore his interests with Harry in his life, he wouldn’t even acknowledge in the privacy of his mind.

What he would admit was that in the months leading up to this fledgling… _relationship_ , Harry had been his little knight against the Gryffindor’s who never learned a lesson properly, and that he felt a thrill, a warming in his chest, whenever Harry rescued him from such bullying. Tom was more than capable of protecting himself, even from the Seventh Years who were the worst of his attackers, but he liked the protective rage that twisted Harry’s face into something beautifully cruel when he caught someone even thinking of attacking Tom.

Tom liked it enough to be finding himself in such dangerous situations on a weekly basis. Now, for example, he was lashed to the wall of a corridor on the fifth floor. The golden bands held his arms and legs uncomfortably, and he was beginning to feel the ache in his shoulders. For now the usual suspects-two Seventh Years and a Sixth Year whose names he still hadn’t bothered to learn-were arguing over how best to “make him pay for being an evil snake.”

He grew bored of their arguments quickly, the uncreative manner in which they planned to use mildly annoying Light Spells didn’t hold his interest. His thoughts drifted, as they often did these days, to what Harry’s face would look like when he inevitably came across the scene on his rounds. So lost in thought, Tom didn’t register the first hex until it hit him, boils erupting across his skin.

_Very original_. _It’s not like that’s how you idiots started last time._

Tom tried to shift a bit to relieve some of the pressure on his right shoulder, succeeding only in making it worse. Harry had better hurry up before Tom lost his interest in this little game. A olive-green light hit him-he idly noticed that it wasn’t as pretty as the Killing Curse-and his body began itching unbearably. His magic reared up to shield him from further harm and he had to shove it back down quickly so the next spell could hit. He didn’t recognize this one, but he hissed in pain as blood began leaking from his shoulder.

The bulkier Seventh Year lifted his wand for the first time, looking particularly smug-likely meaning something more painful-and he made a rather intricate wand movement and mouthed the words of some spell Tom couldn’t guess at. But it didn’t work, because older though he may be the boy was unskilled in wordless magic, and Harry had stolen his voice almost immediately after rounding the corner.

His eyes, Tom noted happily, were burning. His mouth was twisted in a cruel smile Tom wished he’d wear more often. Harry when coming to Tom’s rescue looked downright sinful, and Tom may not know where he wanted things with Harry to go, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate how attractive the boy was, even more so when wearing exotic expressions like cruel anger or seriousness.

The other Seventh Year didn’t have time to take aim at Harry before he was being forced to kneel at the floor, cheek pressed against the ground, by a wave of raw power Harry tended to use more than actual spells. Tom could admit that it was part of why he kept putting himself in these situations, even more than the fascinating expressions Harry made.

The Sixth Year actually fired at Harry, forcing him to engage a bit more than he had with the others. Still, Harry was the best duelist in the school thanks to natural talent and regular practice at home from two of the best Aurors in the department. Tom wasn’t arrogant enough to name himself better, but he knew he’d make a decent match should they even duel each other. He wished for that day in Dueling Club.

“Really, Finnegan? How many times have I warned you?”

“Shut it, Potter.”

“Sure,” Harry said, and waved his wand in his fellow Sixth Year’s direction resulting in a gag shutting his mouth quite satisfactorily.

Harry turned to him then, releasing Tom from the magical bonds and healing the injuries. Tom wasn’t in pain anymore, but he did feel a bit lightheaded. “Alright, Tom?”

“Just fine. Shall I leave you to deal with them?”

“No, no. I sent my Patronus to get McGonagall already. She should be here any second, and then I’ll walk you back. I’m done with my rounds tonight anyway.”

“I can get back on my own.”

“I know.”

And maybe that was another thing. Harry didn’t assume he was incapable of doing things for himself like many of his other suitors and even some of his followers did.

“Mr. Potter. Mr. Riddle. What has happened here?” The Head of Gryffindor’s voice echoed against the stone walls.

“These three were lurking out after curfew making trouble again. I can’t say I’m surprised Professor.”

“No, unfortunately I can’t either. Apologies, Mr. Riddle. Rest assured they’ll be losing a great many privileges beyond free time sacrificed to detention this time.”

“I wasn’t worried Professor.”

“Well, if you’ve got this in hand, I’ll be taking Tom back to the dorms.”

“Of course. Goodnight.”

Harry reached out his arm as if he wanted to wrap it around Tom’s waist to guide him away but abandoned it half way through and simply began walking towards the nearest staircase. Tom found himself almost disappointed that he’d lost the chance at contact. He’d spent the last few weeks since agreeing to the courtship skillfully avoiding any attempts at physical contact, but he found himself wanting it now.

Unaccustomed to denying himself anything, Tom stepped so that his arm brushed up against Harry’s as they came to the bottom of the stairs and began their way through a maze of corridors to the next set. Luckily Harry was Slytherin enough to recognize the invitation, his warm fingers slid through Tom’s, callouses from holding a wand and from Quidditch rubbing against Tom’s fingers and palm.

He found he rather liked the feeling.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
